An Ember Against the Dark
by Gojosin
Summary: A failure, that's what he was. Given delusions of grandeur from various people and told of many prophecies he was meant to fulfill. And he had done none of them. Now, he's lost in a world that's filled with a horrible Darkness different to his own. Perhaps he can do something, this time. Was just an opening idea to a story, but got a second chapter and we'll see where it goes.
1. Chapter 1

"The Fate of the Undead..."  
"Are you the next Monarch?"  
"Ashen One."

He remembered these words clearly as they rang through his head. Three times he had awoken, each time seeming more dead than the last. The first in an abandoned cell of a demon kept Asylum. The second in the darkness betwixt what was, what is, and what will be. The third from an old, ashen coffin. He wasn't a hero, he never completed his journey either time before. Always he'd hit a point where his skill just could not see him through or his courage failed. And he'd go hollow, his mind slowly fragmenting into nothing. And then he'd awaken again, fresh of mind and body. Each time with different gear and strength, unable to truly remember the tales of miracles or the words of spells, unless gifted with them by whatever kept this cycle going.

As for the journeys, while he could remember the start, and the end, he never could remember the details too well. Oh, certain events stood out, such when he first met Solaire and felt the radiance of the Sun peeking through the clouds, seeming to bring a sense of hope that was reflected by the man's attitude. Or the meeting with Pate, though he still couldn't understand why. But that was it.

This ashen form, barely kept together by some will of fire, was pale and lean. He was not exactly weak, definitely dexterous, but his strength lay in his mind and faith. Calling forth an inner flame of great power and able to channel his faith of miracles. A pyromancer by trade, though adept with his chosen blade. If he ever wanted to, he could probably do alright with sorcery.

Holliander eyed the twin drakes guarding the way forward into Lothric Castle as he pondered over this in his mind. This was the furthest he'd ever gotten, the strongest he'd ever been. But it was difficult to continue and not just due to the fire breathing oversized lizards. The knights and soldiers were tougher here too. He looked down at the bonfire beside him, at the coiled sword inside it. Would this be it? Another mark on his list of failures. If so, then where would he find himself next? What body would the cycle provide?

Placing his hand on the sword, he willed himself away, back to the shrine. A brief rest at least, before he tried to continue. He briefly wondered if all who bore the Dark Sign bore the same curse as him. Or maybe completing the journey would break it. Perhaps, one day, he'd find out. Taking a seat by the Firelink bonfire while waving off the concern flowing from the Firekeeper, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a small nap, even if he truly did not need to sleep.

* * *

He felt it first in the darkness of his sleep. A odd sensation, though similar to using the bonfires to travel. It roused him slowly, his muscles stiff as if waking from hollowing. But he knew he never did this time. Perhaps he had slept longer than he meant to. Cracking his eyes, he rubbed them and stood, stretching to get feeling back in his limbs. That's when he froze. It was dark, too dark. The shock helped him wake up and he swiftly began looking around. No bonfire, no Firekeeper, no sound of hammering. No ash or stairs. No shrine. Where was he? Did the Fire fade? Had he failed again?

With a slap to his own face, Holliander did his best to calm down. This was not a place he knew. That already was cause for concern, but it also carried an odd sense of relief. While he was in darkness, it wasn't one that felt oppressive, like the Abyss or lurking with dangers like No Man's Wharf. No, it was just a place devoid of light, like many others he'd gone through.

'Another start it seems. I wonder if another set of Ash was able to lead Lothric to his throne.' He thought with some sarcasm. Reaching for the weight he felt at his side, he stopped when his hand gripped a rather familiar hilt. That couldn't be right. Lifting his hand, he frowned at the darkness and then closed his eyes, feeling his inner power. Fire and heat sprung forth from his palm, giving light to the darkened realm.

"Pyromancy's flame..." Holliander whispered, looking upon his lit form. This could just not be right. He was still wearing his Undead Legion armor, still carrying his Lothic Knight sword that he had imbued with the power of Chaos. He still had his Blessed shield gained all that time ago from the Undead Settlement. And his mind still raced with miracles and the weaving of the flame.

"Then I did not hollow? I did not start anew? Or is something worse ahead than I've ever faced, that this horrid cycle decided to keep me as I last was? Tch, what would they say, seeing you like this? The old handmaiden would laugh, that's for sure." Calming himself, after having decided that perhaps this would be a time to actually take advice from his odd friend Seigward, he sat down on tiled floor and went over what he had on him. A small box of holding had his Black Bow of Pharis and a quiver of arrows, as well as his Dark Corvian Great Scythe and collection of titanite. His belt still carried both of his Estus flasks, various bags and pouches carried a small supply of herbs and resin (He wasn't sure why he kept them on hand), the Bellvine Chime, a final Seigbrau, and the shard of the bonfire's twisted sword.

The Pyromancer stopped at the last item, staring at it. Should he try to use it and see if he could return to the Shrine and leave wherever this was, or should he explore first? After all, this wasn't the first time he'd been unexpectedly taken somewhere else. Birds, gargoyles, even painted scraps. He wasn't sure why they liked to do such things to him.

Shaking his head, he returned to the item on hand. Would it even work? Well, perhaps it would but better to find a fire. After all, he had no idea how he got to wherever he was currently, and if he left without a fire to warp to, he may never find a way to return. Thus a course of action was decided upon.

Putting the shard away, he sheathed his sword and looked about. Old shelves and rotten boxes sat about him, their pungent smell still well enough familiar, so much like so many others. Carefully treading, he kept an eye out for hollows, rats, or any other odd beast that would go against him. None appeared before he stopped in front of a rusty metal door. Taking a deep breath, not that he needed to breath, he bashed the door open with a shoulder, stumbling into the moonlight of a dead, abandoned village. Well, at least he could see now.

Still, the only time he could remember moonlight was Irithyll, but this place wasn't cold and snowy. It did have this sense of loss and despair though. Keeping his flame in hand, he made his way to a small square. No lights, no fires, no movement. It was rather unnerving, actually. Worse was the fact that there was no sign of a bonfire, when usually there was one rather early when he was taken somewhere. It was all quite bewildering, at least til he started scanning the roofs. That was the point he saw the moon.

In Irithyll, the moon had been big, white and round. A shining pale orb, lighting the cold city. While the pale light still was there, the moon was anything but an orb. It was sickled, looking slightly like the blade of the Life-Hunt Scythe, but with a ragged inner edge that crumbled out into jagged shards and clumps. How such could happen was beyond him. Even Aldritch, who devoured at least one god, could not do that. At least Holliander assumed the bloated Lord couldn't, for he had beaten the Devourer and no where during the fight had anything of such power been displayed.

Shaking his head, he started looking at other aspects of the sky, compared to the one he had known. The stars, for one, were not as numerous as he remembered. And there was definitely something in the air. His instincts, for whatever they were worth, told him to not let his guard down. That it felt like something could strike at any moment. Almost like when red phantoms would show up, though no warning from his black crystal. Either way, he'd go no where standing here. Nodding to himself, the best course of action seemed to be exploring this abandoned, ruined village.

* * *

An opening for a Dark Souls x RWBY crossover. Not exactly all that good and I'm not even certain where I would go with it. His 'inventory' is fairly limited to what I described above. Unless he's able to figure out a way to make a Bonfire to access his stash. But who knows what doing that may cause.

Honestly, I have had this written out and been refining it for awhile. I don't know if I'll continue it. Mostly cause I can't figure out where I want to drop him into the RWBY storyline.


	2. Chapter 2

He looked up as the light of the sun dawned upon the village, raising a hand to shield his eyes from it. A golden globe in the sky, burning brightly. Not the sun he had left behind in Lothric that was looking like it was becoming a Dark Sign on the very world. It brought again the memories of a chain clad knight who was on a quest for his own. Involuntarily, he lifted his arms up, hands straight in a V as his soul sang out 'Praise the Sun!' Shaking his head, he turned back to the pile behind him. The remains of villagers, bones and flesh, torn apart by something and a touch of his Flame set the whole lot ablaze.

An odd place this was. No hollows or other undead. No demons or beasts. Absolutely nothing was about and it was driving him crazy. There were broken weapons and odd devices about and the clothing and scraps or armor didn't match anything he ever had seen before. But worst was the lack of a bonfire. He had checked every buildng he could and there was no sign of one. That plus the sun's purity was setting him on edge even more and he would get no answers here. The only good thing had been a broken belltower of some sort, letting him see a great walled city in the distance.

Holliander adjusted his cloak and turned towards this new destination, starting to walk away from the funeral pyre. His instincts were still screaming at him that something was wrong and now that he was being watched. He stuffed it down, though he drew his sword and shield, letting their weight comfort him.

It was about a mile in the untamed forests outside the village when he first heard the shuffling of movement. Raising his armaments defensively, the Pyromancer scanned the area, looking for any sign of an enemy. And with a quick turn, he lashed out, his sword igniting in the primal fire of Chaos as he cleaved a creature's arm off. One of which he'd never quite seen the like of.

The beast looked like someone had taken one of the Millwood Knights' dire wolves and stood it on it's hind feet. Big and black as the Dark stains that clung to his armor, with white bone armoring over it's fur with bright red markings. And burning red eyes that spoke of hatred for all but it and it's kin, specifically those that were now surrounding the man.

With a howl, the group of beasts started their attack. The wounded one was the first in the battle and met the man's burning blade head on as it impaled into the open mouth. Releasing the sword, he turned and blocked another with his shield before he jabbed his free hand forward, unleashing a blast of fire to incinerate the beast. Rolling to the right, he grabbed his free sword as the beasts turned to aught but dust and smoke on death, and swung it low to remove another's leg at the knee while lifting his shield to block it's strike.

After Sullyvan and his Outriders, the pace of these beasts were slow and weak in comparison. Unfortunately, they made it up in numbers. Claws would connect, rending his flesh and wearing down the Legion leathers he wore. Teeth continued to gnash closer and closer to his neck and limbs, seeking to rip them apart. Knowing that, while he was able to whittle them down fast, he would meet his end before they ran out if he did not do something.

Releasing his grip on his shield as he parried another blow, Holliander let the claws drag it away. Stabbing his sword into another, he released it instead of expending the time and energy to free the weapon. And with a turn, he swept both hands up together to clutch a building flame, before smashing them into the earth. Pillars of primal fire exploded forth around him, roaring with the ancient power of Chaos and leaving pools of lava. The beasts fell, either caught in the fire or lava afterwards. The molten rock cooled soon after, leaving him exhausted as he retrieved his gear.

He couldn't use his Estus unwisely, since he didn't know if he'd ever find a bonfire to refresh them at. He could invoke a miracle to heal, but it would drain at his will to do so. Deciding to just be more cautious, he was once again glad for finding his shield all that time ago. The blessing upon it that soothed his wounds was quite useful for this situation.

Turning to start walking again, he stopped when he spotted a crow. The black bird was watching him carefully, with keen intelligence. "So, even still in this cycle, Velka judges the sinners, hmm? I ask you tell her that I pray she judges my failures kindly. Mayhaps even sends someone to at least guide me on whatever task has brought me here?" He chuckled as the crow tilted it's head, before starting off again. "Talking to birds, as if Velka would be so kind to me. She's been mostly neutral in the affairs of the world, aside from dealing with the matters of Sin."

And thus his trip continued, watched over by a dusty old crow.

* * *

They see you as small and helpless.  
They see you as just a child.  
Surprise when they find out that a warrior will soon run wild.

AN: Well, after posting I actually got the courage to continue into a second chapter. Hopefully it's still alright. It has been a bit while I gave it a few passes to refine. I am not confident on my combat scene there, even if it was short. I'll get to the meeting with Team RWBY next time. And yea, I know it's a lot shorter than the first, just where I hit a bit of a block. I'm deciding between two ways to have him integrate into the RWBY story as well as trying to figure out a guideline for how I want this story to go. And praying that I don't royally screw up writing the established characters of RWBY.


	3. Chapter 3

A man smiled as he looked out the window of his office. Decked in a green suit and scarf, he sipped at his coffee before turning back to his desk and the scroll on it. For him, it was a good morning, with the sun shining, the birds singing, and the Grimm attacks being on a downward trend. The school year had ended not long before and the next wouldn't start for a few months. All in all, he felt as in nothing could go wrong.

Professor Ozpin decided that he should stop tempting fate when his scroll began to ring. The tone told him who it was and he doubted the man would bother him at such a time unless it was urgent... or he was so piss drunk again that he was trying to make a prank call at his age. With a sigh, he tapped the device and looked at the screen that appeared over his desk. It showed a slovenly man with a five o' clock shadow, despite it being just past nine in the morning, in a white and grey dress shirt and white and red cloak. Brushing back his black and grey hair, the man just looked at Ozpin with some bags under his eyes.

"So, Qrow, it's rare to see you up before noon. What's the occasion?" The professor began, taking some small delight in the grumpy glare sent back to him. Of course, the reply got him to shift into a more serious mood.

"I checked out that village we got word from, Redwater. Hate to say it, but it's taking after it's name now. Didn't find any survivors at first, so they hopefully escaped. It was early today that I got woken up to something interesting. Somebody in a wierd outfit had gathered the remains of the dead into a funeral pyre. His clothes looked like they must have been old by the time of the Great War. Not to mention his weapon and shield." Qrow shook his head. "Got a look at his Semblance, some sort of fire manipulation and powerful too. He got jumped by some Beowolves and he definitely is an experienced fighter, but then he caused the earth about him to erupt in flame and lava. I'm telling you Oz, it got even weirder after that. He saw me and started talking some crazy stuff before laughing to himself and leaving. Figured I'd keep an eye on him and give you a quick report."

Using his mug to hide his face as he took a drink, keeping the frown from showing and helping to keep the calm and collected outward expression most expected from him. Setting the drink aside after schooling his features, he looked back at Qrow. "That is very interesting. I'm assuming that it's not a registered Huntsman if you are this excited about him. So keep an eye on him for a bit and if he is up to your expectations, see if you can bring him in."

"Yea, yea. There's something I wanna check out about him anyways." With that, the call was dropped. Ozpin sighed again and looked back out the window. Well, it was a good morning at least.

* * *

He stopped about noon, looking up at the sky from the clearing he found. This journey was starting off pretty slow. Holliander figured that it came down to the fact that he had always before had three things in his earlier adventures that were missing here and that was the reason for the sluggish feeling.

The First was that before, taking mostly from the only complete set of memories he had, was that the journey was normally filled with danger. From enemies of all types to traps and other happenings that normally resulted in his death. He especially did his best to not remember the magma in the Smoldering Lake.

The Second was that the paths, no matter how twisting and open, always felt like they were directing him along to do certain tasks in certain orders. Add in the overarching goal driving him along those paths and one may call his journey fate at times. He tried to not think on that too much.

And Third was the fact that he never felt so alone on his adventures. Either friends like Anri or Solaire were there, or the messages left by others to inspire humor, encouragement, warning or those that were somewhat annoying. Not to mention the 'blood' pools that would show how others that had passed an area died.

Now, he had none of that. The only enemies so far had been those black beasts, even if his senses kept telling him that he could be in danger at any moment. The woods before and behind him were open and easy to get lost in, much like... He frowned and tilted his head. He knew that he knew something similar to them, but he couldn't fully bring a memory up. The only thing that kept coming to mind was an area bathed in twilight with scattering patches of moonbeams lighting the area. He just shook his head to draw himself out of those thoughts.

That only brought him back to the last difference, the loneliness he felt. He had thought himself lonely at times before, in some nigh abandoned part of the churning world, as he had heard an old lady once put it. He never did keep his promise to Emma. But even then he had always known he could return to the Shrine and speak with the friends he had made there or get some feeling of camaraderie with people he never knew by the signs they left. Now there was none of it.

That thought, admittedly, almost caused him to reach for the sword fragment again. Even if he had yet to find a bonfire to return to, the pressure to hear one of their voices, even if it was the snarky old shrinemaiden, was almost too much. But he stopped himself for fear of some greater loss. What would he do if he attempted to use it and nothing happened? It was a terror greater than the thought of his current isolation. As long as he didn't use it or a homeward bone, he always had the thought of being able to 'go home' to fall back on, as much as the shrine could be considered a home.

With that final thought in mind, he let his hand drop and he continued to push forward. It's not like he could really die, so there was nothing better to do anyways. And he'd rather not have to start the trek all over again.

And so, the silent journey continued, towards the distant city.

* * *

So, yea, Chapter 3. I actually decided to not toss him in with RWBY proper. Mostly cause I wanted to not have to try to remember exact details from the show and write them in. Plus there wasn't a good way to do so, aside from him crashing Initiation, so to speak, and that's been done. It'd have to been that, Mount Glenn, or during Vol 4, and I wanted him to have a chance to actually effect things a bit more before then. So instead, he gets to deal with the grown-ups for now. And who knows how they'll react to some of the things he has.

I'm not certain the exact details of where I'm going to go with this from here. If anyone has ideas or advice, don't shy from dropping em in reviews.

Honestly, I just hope I did Ozpin and Qrow right.


End file.
